For the Day after Tomorrow
by Jeengufett
Summary: Through a child's eyes, life is filled to the brim with millions of glorious things. To an adult, it is nothing but reality. But what if reality takes a turn for the worst? Three-year-old Watanuki Kimihiro and Doumeki Shizuka learns of this the hard way.
1. Introduction

**For the Day after Tomorrow**

**Author's notes page**

There aren't any new characters I have to introduce, unless you guys have no idea how to track the story's plot at all. Obviously I've used both Doumeki and Watanuki as mere three-year-olds that are defenseless and all that, but it adds a sort of suspense to the story. There are no relations made between this fanfiction and the real xxxHolic plot, so please don't misunderstand. Since when was Kohane older than Watanuki? Since when had Yuuko been involved at some point? Was there even a haunted carnival in the original story? These questions, and the answers to them, prove the originality of the plot.

If there are any coincidences that there is a similar story out there, please understand that I have no knowledge of it. I have done this strictly underneath the borderlines of boredom and rabid plot bunnies attacking. Whoever decided it best to make another story similar to this one is purely at fault.

And even if I wanted to, I cannot make updates every three hours, so please do not rant about my "lack of effort" or "tardiness in updating" and yadda yadda yadda. May I remind you that I have a personal life myself? Although I enjoy writing, I do not have every single day reserved for it. In fact, after this I'll have to get back on my term paper.

All the while, please enjoy. This wasn't made for any sort of publication, besides the FFnet service, at all. All these characters are not mine, and they are all copyrighted under their own respective companies, etc., etc.. Constructive, fangirl-y, squeal-y, and (diminutive) rant-y reviews are welcome, always.

Now, go to **Chapter one** and begin.

jeengu.


	2. Chapter one

**For the Day after Tomorrow**

Chapter 1: **Because Kimihiro wanted a lot of other things, too.**

-

Watanuki Kimihiro was precisely three years and three months and five days and six hours and fourteen seconds the day he and his parents moved into the small apartment that was quite empty and quite new, that time. It was big and it had many rooms, with lots of faded-brown windows and giant doors a few heads taller than him. They lived in the topmost part, where he had the best of windows in his room; at night he could hear the wind whistle sweetly, like a mother's lullaby. And when it rained, the glass pane fogged up and he could draw on them, little horses and angel wings on giraffes drawn with small pudgy fingers of a child.

Kimihiro had ten fingers, and he drew with one, two at most.

He had dark raven hair, always messy and standing in all places no matter how you brushed them down- and he had pale milky skin, and wide cerulean eyes behind a pair of somewhat thick glasses. He liked wearing long shirts that reached his knees, long enough to hide his short pants.

His father liked cooking a lot. He baked cakes with sweet strawberries and cherries on the side of one layer, and chocolate syrup on the upper stack. Sometimes he cooked meals that were very expensive looking, like meat wrapped in seaweed and sweet syrupy sugar, and slightly sour rice molded into triangular shapes with strips of seaweed on top, and sashimi strips dipped in vinegar and soy sauce.

Kimihiro never liked the sashimi because it was pink and pudgy, and tasted funny. Like an adult taste.

His mother liked making things that weren't eaten. Kimihiro thought it was called handicraft, or something with the word _hand_ in them.

She made sweaters and mats and pillows with frilly lace, and stuffed toys of dogs and the big white cat Kimihiro had wanted for his birthday. Kimihiro liked the stuffed toy cat better because it didn't need to be bathed and fed, but he wanted a cat nevertheless.

His mother also liked collecting really old things, even if their apartment had no space for them. Various people came by all the time, bringing lots of old-looking furniture, and leaving them in the apartment's basement once his mother had browsed through the lot. Sometimes, one particular piece of furniture would interest her, and she would have it positioned in the living room. His father often said it saved a lot of money, having his grandmother's stuff given to them. They didn't need to buy couches and tables anymore, but they needed to buy a television.

Kimihiro didn't like the old musty smell that came from his grandmother's old stuff; but he wanted a television set very, very, much.

There were other tenants in the room, too. There was the kind motherly woman named Kohane, living next door; she had lots of butterfly pictures and butterflies held within picture frames, and she had a nice summer smell in her place. Kimihiro dropped by often whenever she was free of college work and chores. There was the grumpy, old man named Kaikei, who was balding and wrinkled and mean, and his granddaughter named Himawari, who was sweet and friendly, but was rarely available to play with.

And finally, there was Yuuko.

She was young and extremely pretty, the kind of pretty you'd see in commercials and magazines; she had long dark hair, always flowing and silken, and she was always dressed in expensive-looking dresses that Kimihiro was sure couldn't be bought cheaply, even in Japan. She often visited to drink wine with his parents. They looked like very good friends.

Kimihiro liked Yuuko. She, although crazy in an adult-kind of way, made him feel at peace. He liked everything about her: from the strands of her hair to her nice feminine toes.

The least he liked of her was her pair of crimson eyes.

Knowing eyes.

Probing eyes.

Eyes that knew the whole of the world.

And it was those kind of eyes Yuuko had, and she often stared at him with them.

He didn't like to be stared at.

He was three years and three months and one week and eight hours and three minutes and twenty seconds when he passed an old shrine while walking to the park. There was a little girl in a pink kimono walking towards a large Sakura tree with a paper balloon in her hands. As was his nature, Kimihiro walked towards the girl, and half-way she turned and their eyes met.

Only then did he realize that she wasn't a girl.

"You dress silly," said Kimihiro, pointing at the little wooden shoes and clothed feet of the other kid. "Why are you dressed like a girl?"

The kid's face had no expression on it, just yellow-colored eyes that looked terribly bored and terribly serious. He had a set mouth and tanned skin. He looked a bit older than Kimihiro. "Because you're stupid," the kid said in reply.

Kimihiro pouted, hurt, but daren't leave; "What's your name?" he asked.

"Shizuka."

"I'm Kimihiro."

"We have tea and cookies inside, Kimihiro. Geez, it sounds like a girl's name." Shizuka turned and walked slowly towards the shrine, tossing the paper balloon towards the old Sakura tree as he passed it.

"It jolly well doesn't!"

But Shizuka was gone. He was already inside the house.

Kimihiro contemplated going inside, and becoming friends, even if Shizuka was difficult. Somehow, going to play in the park alone didn't seem like a fun idea, now.

He ran inside the open door of the shrine, remembering to take his boots by the entrance. From where he stood, he could see the cozy lit innards of the shrine; floor boards shining, paper walls glistening, and the smell of newly placed incense filling his nose. Kimihiro pursed his lips, forced himself not to smile, and stepped over to where Shizuka was standing. The boy had taken off the outer layer of his kimono, and stood in what resembled a ritual robe. Kimihiro hadn't seen any of that kind before, outside the magazines- and, in surprise, he let out a gasp of childish delight.

"Is that...a gi?"

"No." Said Shizuka plainly, looking somewhat pitifully at him. "Now eat."

Kimihiro looked at the plate of cookies set before him, crinkled his nose, and took a piece into his mouth.

It wasn't exactly horrible.

But it wasn't any good, either.

So Kimihiro refrained from taking another one, and sat, cross-legged, on the floor. Shizuka followed suit.

"I'm going to the park any time soon," said Kimihiro, a bit haughtily, to his friend; "I bet you would like to come with me. Well I won't let you. Unless you say sorry for being mean and sour like the old Kaikei-san back home. Well?" At this point, the blue-eyed boy was looking expectantly at Shizuka.

But Shizuka wasn't that kind of kid who fell for things like that. "No, I don't wanna go. You go by yourself."

"Seriously?" Kimihiro probed, leaning forward with a crease between his eyebrows. "Not even a wee bit?"

"No." Shizuka stood. "Grandfather will be back soon, I'll lead you to the door."

At that, Kimihiro returned home looking sour and disappointed, and his father was too busy with preparing dinner to properly address him.

"_Otosan_, I met this kid earlier. He was weird and mean to me. Make him say sorry." Kimihiro whined, tugging at his father's leg. The adult heaved a sigh and stood back to look at his son.

"Which little boy, Kimihiro?"

"The one living in the shrine. Shizuka. See? Even his name's funny!"

"You mean 'at the shrine'," his father corrected him. "Nobody lives inside a shrine, dear." The older man was busying himself again with the potatoes that needed to be steamed for supper.

Kimihiro peered over the tall table, frowned visibly at the food his father was making. "I want noodles. I'm sick of rice, _otosan_."

"Why don't you go bother your _okasan_ while I cook? She brought in a new mirror for you from your _obachan_."

"I don't wanna mirror," replied Kimihiro sulkily. But he went up to his room anyway.

His mother had just finished rearranging his room when Kimihiro arrived. The bed was placed a few inches farther from where it originally stood, his study table taking up the space instead, and an old-looking Victorian mirror beside that.

Kimihiro looked up at it and tilted his head considerably.

"How old is it, _okasan_?"

"You like it?" His mother looked tired, but contented with how everything was done. "This one's the last bit of your _obachan_'s room. She'll be moving out soon, too."

"Yeah, but how old is it?"

"A bit old, I reckon." His mother dusted herself of excess dirt, and proceeded to leave the room. "Be careful now, it's not as tough as it looks. Tell your father to start eating without me, when he calls for dinner; I'm going to take a nice long bath."

She sounded really contented and excited as she said that, and Kimihiro was happy for her, really, but there was something more important right then, like the weird mean kid from the shrine.

She was gone when he was actually going to say it out loud, though.

Kimihiro walked over to his new mirror, and saw what he was sure he'd see- a boy of five years and three months and one week and ten hours and six minutes and twenty-three seconds, with black hair standing in all places and eyes as wide as saucers a deep shade of blue. He raised his right hand, and his reflection followed suit; he raised his left, and that was followed, too. He poked his nose and wiggled his tongue, and he did all sorts of other things until at least the mirror would make a mistake, although it didn't.

The boy in front of the mirror looked tired and exasperated now.

"Oh, poo you." Kimihiro said angrily, bending to pick up his stuffed giraffe and throwing it against the hard glass. It made no apparent impact as it did so, and slid to the floor as silently as a rug against ice.

Kimihiro stood there, brooding moodily.

"Kimi-chan, it's time for dinner!" He heard his father call from outside, as to which Kimihiro responded, "It's not Kimi-chan! Use my real name!" And he ran at full speed towards the kitchen; His father was all smiles and was laughing, even when Kimihiro shamelessly kicked at his shins.

Inside his room, his reflection returned; and the little boy in the mirror looked at the stuffed giraffe at his feet with all the longing a caged animal would have after being deprived of something for too long.

**[End of Chapter 1]**


	3. Chapter two

**For the Day after Tomorrow**

Chapter 2: **Because Shizuka was never one to deal with oodlesense, anyhow.**

-

Kimihiro was wearing a pair of shiny green rubber boots, when he came by the temple.

It was a cold day; the mist surrounded the small district, and the wind was sweetly blowing at his already messy hair. He patted it once, and then twice, and then hit his fist at the door. He was clad in light blue shorts and a long shirt that reached his knees, beneath an even longer blue raincoat and the shiny green rubber boots. He liked his boots. He wanted Shizuka to see them.

The door opened, slowly, and out peeked a very blank Shizuka.

"Oh, it's you." Said the temple boy, sliding the door open even wider. Kimihiro could see that he wasn't wearing anything weird or girly, but rather a simple looking shirt and pants. "Why are you dressed like that?" asked Shizuka, when Kimihiro had raised his gaze.

"I'm going exploring," said Kimihiro, plainly. Then he raised his feet to show off his boots. "You like them?" He had an almost haughty sort of smile on his face.

But Shizuka wasn't amazed. "They're green." He stated calmly. Then, "What are you going to explore? The streets?"

Kimihiro dropped his feet in a stomp, crossed his arms, then pouted. "Course' not, everyone knows that the streets are boring with all the posts and stuff."

"Then what?" Shizuka pressed, with no real expression in his tone.

"The woods, silly!" exclaimed Kimihiro exasperatedly. "I'm going to look for treasure in the woods!"

"Grandfather says that the woods are dangerous, and filled with _ayakashis_." Stated Shizuka.

Kimihiro fell silent for a while, knowing full well what Shizuka meant by _ayakashis_. They weren't nice transparent things. He saw them from time to time, but they never really tried coming close, not when his parents were there.

"But I wanna explore sumthin'." Said Kimihiro, lamely. "I wanna. And I could, if only you din't say anything about _ayakashis_."

The bespectacled little boy dropped his head, and his glasses slid an inch down his nose. He looked depressed.

He looked sad.

Shizuka didn't like seeing Kimihiro sad, surprisingly.

"I can come with you, and we can explore together." He offered softly.

Kimihiro sniffed. He still had his head down.

"And I like your boots, too." Added Shizuka.

Kimihiro then raised his head. "Really?"

Shizuka took his coat from the rack, wore his own pair of brown boots, and shut the door behind him. He was leveled with his companion as they both stepped out of the temple. "Yeah. Really."

So they went exploring. A bit gingerly at first, for the fog was thick and damp, and Kimihiro wasn't really fond of mud- but gradually they walked faster, and only stopped when they lost sight of the streets behind them, and the trees were nothing less than a canopy of hindrances.

It was Shizuka who first mentioned the obvious. "We're lost."

Kimihiro got to his knees, grimaced at the muck, and peeked at the distance before them. It was much clearer on the ground than standing up, with the mist looming over them that way. "There's something over there."

Doumeki squatted and took a look for himself, nodding. "Yup. Looks like a place."

"What else could it be?"

"An enraged bear, or something." Replied Shizuka. He started to walk forward. "C'mon."

Kimihiro followed immediately, with a small hand held up a bit in front of him for safety measures. Not that it would do him some good, but a bit of safety is better than nothing. His small fingers found sanctuary in the feel of rough fabric of Shizuka's coat, and grabbed it almost involuntary.

Shizuka glanced at him, but walked on.

The place they were headed toward was soon made out to be a battered old carnival, with the booths and benches and wheels and rides all covered in something that looked like rust, or dried blood, even. There seemed to be no one in sight- and as far as Kimihiro was concerned, no sign of _ayakashis_ either. The two children couldn't help but a feel even just the tiniest bit of marvel as they ventured through the old rusted carnival, occasionally pointing at rides and booths that looked oddly inviting, despite of the state the machinery was in. There were still stuffed toys hanging undisturbed on walls as prizes, and the carousel looked functional, blinking once and then twice in the darkening twilight. The cotton candy machine still had a few of its treats in glass cases, and the popcorn still looked edible. Kimihiro had never been to a carnival before, since they weren't really rich, but he thought the whole place looked wonderful even with all the rust and dirt among them.

Shizuka was a little bit more cautious, though, making sure to keep his companion from darting around aimlessly without him, occasionally having to tell the younger lad off for even wanting to eat the candy corns and candied apples set on display behind glass.

"They look _clean_." Said Kimihiro sourly, crossing his arms at some point.

Shizuka didn't even bother to tell the younger boy that the food was probably infested with maggots, or rotting. Kimihiro was incredibly stubborn when overexcited.

Further down through the carnival, they spotted a tent that looked only recently propped up, and it sparked a bit of hope in both youngsters' minds- Shizuka thinking that finally they could get help to be able to get back home, and Kimihiro thinking that he could finally ask somebody about the food and the rides, if they were still okay to use.

But before they could even raise a hand or peek inside, the tent flaps blew out by themselves and out stepped an incredibly tall and lank man, dressed in a blinding violet tux, with a remarkably tall hat that seemed impossible to come out of the tent looking as stiff and upright. The man had a funny mustache and a funny smile, the kind that could mean to seem as something good and terrifying at the same time, and his eyes were sparkling as if he had told a very funny joke. He had a long walking stick with him, dark and full of shine, and he had a purple tie to go along with his tailed coat. And his voice was deep and it went, "Haaaiii hooooee, my lovelies, and welcome to Geronimo's carnival of fun!"

He was bent and smiling at them, but Shizuka found it a little bit intimidating. He did not falter, however.

"We're lost." He spoke first. "We were walking around in the woods and we found your carnival, sir, but it's getting late and we must get home."

"Indeed it is gettin' late!" Exclaimed the man. "You two boys ha' been very naughty, wandering about ta' woods all alone. But don' you worry, ole' Geronimo will take good care of you for the night, you'll see! How about we get some hot chocolate into you little knockers, eh?"

"We're not knockers," said Kimihiro innocently. "We're two kids lost. And I wanna eat some candy."

Geronimo, in all his length, got down to his knees until Kimihiro's head was at least level to his chest, so he could only spare his head to bend and look. He winked, and his mustache wiggled. "Tha's awright, I'll be getting you some candy soon, don' you fret." And he took Kimihiro's hand.

"But we have to go home." Shizuka said, following the two into the tent. "Our parents are worried and-"

He wasn't able to say much more, with him also being mesmerized by the inside of the tent.

The space around them stretched and stretched beyond the limits of what should be possible in the small place, and every single nook and cranny was decorated and furnished with expensive and eccentric looking things, like the tiger coat on the floor as a rug, and the rows upon rows of tall hats on one side. There were various chairs and tables and knickknacks, and fabrics of different colors and shapes and sizes. Kimihiro tentatively put his hand on the tiger rug on the floor, found that it was not a real tiger, and sat on it. Geronimo went further towards what seemed to be the kitchen, and Shizuka and his little friend was left alone.

"This all seems so weird." He said. Beside him, Kimihiro was teething on the tiger rug's ears. "I think we should get home now, something bad might happen."

"Oodlesense, Shizuka." Said Kimihiro. He sat back down with his legs spread before him, looking incredibly happy. "He doesn't seem mean, he's gonna give us the chocolates! The only problem with him is that he speaks funny."

"Grandfather said not to trust strangers." Shizuka stated firmly.

Kimihiro hmphed at him, and crawled inches away. "I don' wanna go home yet." He hugged the tiger rug. "Don' wanna."

Shizuka sighed, and stood. "I'll go to Geronimo and ask him stuff, you wait here."

"Oodlesense!" Kimihiro called behind him, but Shizuka was way out of caring, anyway.

The air was heavier, mustier; it grew even more so as he journeyed deeper into the tent. The displays around him seemed to have lost a sense of friendliness, and occasionally Shizuka would see something rather grotesque to be hung on the walls. He saw a cockroach or two scuttle about, and with his eye brows furrowed he stepped on every single one of them. He didn't like cockroaches. They made him itch.

He raised a hand to support his weight as he leaned to the left, and found the walls covered in something thick and warm.

He withdrew his hand and saw the redness of the liquid underneath the dim light.

There was also a low rumbling somewhere in the darkness, a sort of wheezing sound as if whoever was breathing that way was having sharp things shoved up his lungs. It was frightening, so to say- and Shizuka gripped himself, for his and Kimihiro's sake. He prayed the little boy was safe where he was.

There was a blinking light bulb swaying over them, to and fro, to and fro…

And saw whatever was before him.

It was Geronimo. He was hunched over something, broad shoulders moving as he moved his hands, munching sounds eminent in the slim space.

Shizuka could smell rot and rust, and he didn't like it. Also, there was a dark feeling of dread mixed with fear creeping up to his heart, enough for the stoic little boy to take a step backwards.

He turned and ran, as quietly and as quickly as possible.

He found Kimihiro waiting impatiently a little through the front; grabbed his arm, pulled with all his weight, and dragged the complaining boy behind him. They ran as much as they could, pushing past through the mist and trees, ending up where they wanted to be.

Shizuka was panting when Kimihiro kicked his leg, but not as much as to hurt.

"Why'd you do that? You jerk!"

The young monk only returned his companion's heated gaze, which prompted the little Kimihiro to let off a little more steam. Fortunately for Doumeki, however, Kimihiro was easily distracted by the lamp post flicking to life, and the darkening skies of gray.

"I should get home now," said Kimihiro, plainly, dropping the little fists he had balled before him. He turned to walk back towards his apartment, turning to look at Shizuka only when he was a couple of steps away.

"Don' get all smug, 'cuz you were still rude!" He called, before running off into the streets.

Shizuka was surprised there weren't any _ayakashis_ around to terrify Kimihiro, at the least.

-

When Watanuki did get home, nobody was there to greet him. All he had to hear was the continuous tick-tock of the grandfather clock somewhere in the living room, and the creaking of the door he had opened. He looked left, then right, wondering if it was the right apartment he had entered, or if he had gone through Kaikei-san's odd little place again.

Everything was set as it were; this was obviously his house, and that was his frog mug sitting on the dinner table. There was a singular plate with spaghetti on it, beside his mug. With a small smile, Kimihiro approached the table and sat, and began to eat.

After eating he switched the television on and watched various shows his parents would normally restrict him. He couldn't understand why grown-ups enjoyed shows with lots of shouting and explosives, anyway. At some point, the television crackled and the screen went to static, muffled eerily by laborious breathing and distant shouting. Kimihiro quickly turned the television off, frightened.

He sat back, and stared. The wind was blowing through the window; it made lots of weird melancholic noises too, not the kind of sweet whistling he was used to, and Kimihiro would've wanted to shut the windows closed because it was getting cold and he was getting more frightened, but he couldn't. The windows were stuck where they were.

He assured himself that it was just going to rain- but that didn't work, because he never liked the rain anyway.

He got ready for bed instead.

Brushed his teeth as quickly as he could (because the bathroom smelled and _felt_ funny),

And climbed up his bed (only now that it seemed a bit taller, this time).

He hugged the bed sheets closer to his chest, lied down, and listened to the howling of the sky.

As he was drifting off to sleep, there was a soft _clunk_ that woke him, and he immediately sat up and looked around. The room was dark, and the noise was still there, but besides that nothing else was about. He looked at the mirror his mother had given him, the tall full-body length one, and stared. There was a little boy on the other side, looking terribly like him- but the boy was smiling, even if he wasn't. He was also holding the plush giraffe Kimihiro had thrown at the bottom of the mirror the night before.

He suddenly felt very lonely and very frightened, and his smiling look-alike was only making it even worse.

**[End of Chapter 2]**


	4. Chapter three

**Chapter 3**

-

Kimihiro woke to the silence of morning, and was disappointed to see that not even a single ray of light greeted him, as it always had. As he sat up, he could see that the day was as dark and as bleak as it was when he had slept, and nothing so far had changed. He could still hear the _tick-tock_ of the grandfather clock out in the living room. He strained his ears and listened to the emptiness, wishing to at least hear a creaking of the door, or any other sign of his parents being there.

There was nothing.

Too tired to feel worried, he climbed down his bed and flicked the light switch of his lamp on, only to find that it wasn't working. This did not trouble him, because it never did work anyway.

The lights in his room did, though, and the eeriness of last night was bathed in bright, yet empty light. Everything was in its place; his coloring books, his crayons, his toys and clothes, all except the presence of the giraffe stuffed toy he had seen in the mirror. He had never liked it any specially before, but seeing it in the mirror with a happier-looking version of himself made him feel jealous, somewhat.

There was a bag of marbles on the table top next to the door. He took it, put it in his pocket, and walked out of his room, and out through the front door of his apartment.

The hallway was oddly quiet, but at this point he felt used to it. Making sure to leave the door open in case he had to run back, he started to walk, bare feet flush against the marble floors.

For some time, all he could hear was his footsteps. When he grew tired of the silence, he attempted to whistle, and when he remembered that he never knew how, decided to hum instead. But the silence felt alive and hungry- and as soon as the first note left his mouth, the rest of the song was whisked away, and all he had left was the feeling of dryness in his lips.

He licked them until they were damp enough, and began to hum again.

This time the notes seemed to take on a life of their own- twisting themselves into terrible, screeching noises, shrill enough to echo in the silence of the hallway. Alarmed by the sounds, Kimihiro immediately fell into the quiet himself- frightened that the sounds he had made might've disturbed the other tenants, or the other _people_ around him in any way.

But his stubbornness was as thick as his resolve- and, making sure not to make the same mistake again, he started to sing.

_Oh_

_Fiddle dee dum and fiddle dee dee, _

_The old gray lady is after me_

_Twice can she run, even more than I flee, _

_The old gray lady is after me_

As he ended, there was a slow, creaking noise a few paces in front of him, and he stopped in his steps.

A beautiful woman was bathed in an eerie glow, the light twinkling gracefully on her brown-colored mane. There was a butterfly on her hair, as if sitting on a lovely petal, and it seemed to Kimihiro that its wings were moving- in fact, it seemed that every single butterfly on the woman's clothing, even, were moving. She was looking around like she couldn't see him, a beautiful yet frightening pair of dark pupil-less eyes.

He took a step back.

The woman blinked. As she did, her incredibly long eye lashes met her cheeks, slowly, and clear dark eyes sparkled. She opened her mouth as to speak, and from where he was standing, Kimihiro could see that the inside of her mouth was hollow, hollow, hollow…and a terrible feeling of dread crept up his nerves.

"_Kimihiro-kun?_" Said the woman.

The small boy peered into the darkness, his cerulean eyes fighting against the light that shown off the woman like a magnificent halo. "Kohane-chan?"

Her voice was melodious, wonderful. She spoke as if she were singing the words, tasting it one by one, and letting them out with a tone added to them. She spoke like butterflies conversing with each other in the summer breeze, like flowers giggling between soft petals in the morning wind. She spoke, to Kimihiro, like a woman would to a lost child.

But he was afraid of her; afraid of her dark, bottomless eyes.

Kimihiro didn't like to be stared at.

"_Kimihiro-kun, are you lonely? It's an awful hour to be awake in."_

It was indeed lonely, but he hadn't let it bother him until now. Hearing it said by someone else only pulled his emotions free. His big eyes quickly filled up with tears.

"I can't find them, okasan and otosan and everybody else."

The butterfly woman studied him carefully, and she held out a hand and gestured him to come over. _"Stay with me, then," _she said.

There was no reason for Kimihiro to feel scared, especially now that he had finally found somebody to actually be with. He was feeling terribly alone. But as he held out his hand, there seemed to be something that pulled him away, and he realized that he couldn't quite reach for the woman holding out to him. Something was whispering, _don't trust that woman._

So he didn't. Kimihiro wasn't exactly stubborn; he knew when and when not to be obedient. He had a brain of his own, after all.

He took a step back and felt the world stretch out behind him, slowing him down as he turned to run for safety. The woman who was eerily like his own Kohane-chan back home did not make a move to grab him, but her mouth opened until it was distortedly stretched to swallow him all at once- and as he fully turned around, a deafening scream filled the dark empty space, resonant within the halls.

He ran as fast as his little feet could carry him, feeling like the whole of hell itself was rampaging behind his back- and maybe it was like that, really, because the elegant butterflies that had once been the Kohane-look-alike had turned into what seemed like bats, and the whole of them raged over to catch him, to eat him, to do lots of things to him that he couldn't even fathom to know of, in his young age of three years.

His feet carried him to where he wanted to be quickly enough, and soon he could see the door he had left open just a few yards away. At that moment his right foot decided to rebel against him, and he tripped, landing squarely on his face. He pushed himself up and looked gingerly behind him, his eyes stinging, and the lot of bats turned back into butterflies and reassembled themselves to form into Kohane again.

There was a sort of sinister gleam in her bottomless eyes. "_Now will you be a good boy and stay with me?" _

Kimihiro sniffled, bringing his hand to wipe away his tears. His other hand was clasped around the bag of marbles he had picked up earlier, and as soon as he grabbed a handful, he flung the whole lot at the monster behind him.

Kohane screamed as the marbles rained down on her, small and hard and many, and shining vividly as they made contact, giving ample time for Kimihiro to get away. The little boy did, too, getting up as fast as he could and throwing his full weight upon the door to close it shut behind him. He made sure to lock it, and after that he ran full speed towards his room to hide underneath his bed sheets.

He was trembling. He was really, really, REALLY scared.

"He wouldn't like that," said a voice very much like his own.

Kimihiro swerved around to see who could it be; he was so sure he was alone right now, and safe, although his young mind was fighting against reality. It was always like that, when things happen so suddenly.

His reflection in the hallway mirror was talking to him, though it did not seem like his reflection at all. The boy in the mirror had cleaner clothes and looked as if he had just come out of the bath; his eyes were sparkly and he was smiling, unlike Kimihiro was, all dirty and scared. Also, he had the stuffed giraffe with him. Kimihiro wanted the stuffed giraffe back so much.

"Why wouldn't he like that?" Kimihiro asked, pouting. "''sides, it wasn't a he. Kohane-chan is a _guuurl_, you dolt." He was normally spanked whenever he used mean words like that, but he was feeling mean and uncomfortable, and his parents weren't around to spank him anyway.

His reflection just laughed, and Kimihiro missed laughing. "He wouldn't like that, Kimi-chan. Good luck now." And with that, albeit impossible, the reflection turned around, crossed the hallway, and turned to the living room of the house in the mirror. He was gone.

Kimihiro just stared at where his reflection used to be. His ears were red, and his eyes were bursting with tears. And then, he cried- "IT'S KIMIHIRO, NOT KIMI-CHAN!"

-

In another place, a little way off where our Kimihiro was:

Shizuka was just as uncomfortable. And he felt just as mean, and just as terrible.

The night before, he had gone into the temple, and found out that it was being infested with bad spirits. They were like maggots: twisting in and about across the tatami mats, across the walls, dipping in and out of the doors; there were some who were eating the scrolls his grandfather had made to protect the house, although these scrolls should have killed them all at the first touch. His grandfather wasn't anywhere around.

Then he had gone to where he was supposed to go, at times of emergencies like this. The storage house was a little way at the back of the temple, but although there were tons of _ayakashis_ inside the house, there was nothing that bothered him outside. He had then found the bow his grandfather owned, a little way taller than he was himself; and the string could not be pulled any farther than his little hands could let him.

So it was that presently, he was still brooding over what to do with it.

It was only obvious to say that he really was in a dire need for weapons, but at his young age, he couldn't possibly hold one that he could control properly. Besides, the only things that counted as weapons in his mind were the things his grandfather had usually used at exorcisms; he had been to those because he liked tagging along his grandfather. He remembered the bow without the arrows, the paper scrolls with stuff written on them, and rarely, Buddhist beads.

He could not possibly use the bow right now, and the beads were nowhere in sight. And the scrolls did not seem to have the power they should.

Sighing, he inched into the small nook behind the bookshelf he was in, and closed his eyes. There was a soft _clunk_, and immediately he stood, looking around alertly. A little way from him was a bag of what seemed to be marbles.

Shizuka tipped his head, wondering where it could have come from, but realized quickly that perhaps this was his chance to turn the tables around. The marbles were numerous, filling the stuffy pouch bag to the brim. Although he was sure it wouldn't kill any of the _ayakashis_ instantaneously, he had a weapon, at the least. Weapons in fact.

Smiling to himself now, he picked the bag up and put it inside his coat. He was still wearing the outerwear he was the day before. He got out of the storage house and tentatively put his boots on, and left without further ado.

He didn't really know what he had to do. He was hungry and tired, and admittedly, he was scared. He was only a child, after all, and the situation he was in was not supposed to be a part of his childhood. He wasn't supposed to fight against ghosts with marbles all alone, at the very least.

Then it hit him: where was Kimihiro? The boy had gone back to his apartment, and he was surely still there.

With renewed resolution, he ran at full speed, past the family gates, past numerous lamp posts and trees, and eventually reached what he was sure to be his friend's apartment. After all, Kimihiro had oftentimes boasted about how spacious it was and how tall, and had even pointed out to him his room with chubby fingers.

"The nicest one in the whole place!" Kimihiro had chirped, "One with big windows opening out to beyond!"

So Shizuka stared up at the apartments, looked for the one with the nicest windows. All the others seemed to be barricaded shut, and the only one with open windows looked hollow and frightening. Despite that, Shizuka was sure he was looking at exactly where Kimihiro could be.

He gripped the bag of marbles through his coat, grit his teeth to look fearless, and entered the opened doors that seemed to be calling him, towards beyond.


	5. Chapter four

**Chapter 4 **

-

In all honesty, the creaking of the door was enough to make him jump.

Not that he was usually jumpy at all, but the eerie silence of the almost-empty (there was something in there- something alive, besides Kimihiro) was absolutely creeping him out. It wasn't really to be surprised about when it came to three-year-olds (rather, three years and eight months and two weeks and ten hours and ten minutes and ten seconds old), but Shizuka was used to being stoic, in that manner. After all, his father had always told him that it was better for him to be that, because then no person would hinder him from becoming a monk.

Shizuka knew what a monk was and understood all the responsibilities surround it (as much as he bothered to admit, anyway). He knew that being a monk meant abstaining from the rest of the world, perhaps beside getting married to become a otosan and all that. His father wasn't exactly clear on the getting married bit, because he looked quite uncomfortable- and his obasan had even pointed out, _Hiroshi, don't be so unclear. _And then he turned to Shizuka and said, _there will come a time when you will understand. When you find yourself doing everything for another person. If that is so, cherish that person, because he is the most important to you and that is not a bad thing._ And he had smiled, the cheerful, old, crinkled smile of his.

Shizuka was too young to understand, of course- but he very well could see the connection when it came to Kimihiro.

Perhaps it was a hidden sentiment, but Kimihiro was _kind of _important to him. After all, the young boy was his ever first friend around his age. Not that he liked getting out much, but most of the kids usually passed by the temple without even looking at him. To think that he was a weak boy, too (which was why he was told to wear kimonos at home). Kimihiro had been the first to look at him, to insult him, and to refuse the cookies his mother had made him, that time. It was made of oats, and Shizuka liked them very much.

So as he put a foot after the other into the silent apartment, he could finally understand what his grandfather had meant when he said _doing everything for another person_, and _that is not a bad thing_. Because even though he felt very, very, VERY scared, there was something inside him, nagging him, to save Kimihiro.

That much was enough to give him strength.

There was a thick carpet at his feet, and it was made of bright, yellow petals. Shizuka could smell the faint essence of sunflowers, calming and fragrant, and it led him by the nose towards what seemed to be the public dining room. The place was not small at all- in fact, it was large and rather accommodating, and the feel was warm. Suddenly he could feel all fear leaving him, and slowly he entered the open door.

As he did, a flurry of petals greeted him- and suddenly he was in a wide meadow teeming with wild sunflowers, showering him with an array of warmth and welcome. He looked around to see where he really was, and was both surprised and relieved to see the still open door behind him. He turned his gaze back front and slinked his hand into the pocket of his coat, giving the bag of marbles a swift squeeze. He had always been told to keep his guard up- and though he never got it at first, he now knew what his parents meant by that.

He then rested his eyes on the back of a girl, who was crouching a few paces in front of him, as if she were bending to pick the sunflowers spread across the land. She was fairly pretty, with her wavy hair tied in long pigtails at each side of the head, decorated by thin trails of yellow ribbons matching the colors of the fields around her. She was wearing a decent, floral dress, and she seemed nice enough. Shizuka then decided it best to say something, at that.

"Hello." He spoke in the same nonchalant baritone (quite deep for his age).

The girl turned to look up at him, and her eyes were marvelous orbs with sunflowers reflected in them, although Shizuka wasn't really sure why her eyes did even if she was looking at him. She had a sweet smile upon her face, bright and friendly, and they opened to reveal a bottomless gap between rosy lips.

"_Hello there," _she paused a bit; "_Do I know you?"_

"No. I'm Shizuka Doumeki. I was wondering if you know Kimihiro, by any chance. He lives next door."

The girl's eyes brightened, and the flowers within them bristled in what seemed to be excitement. _"Of course I do! He's really nice. Have you two met before?" _

"Just a day ago, yeah." He replied truthfully.

She stood up so abruptly Shizuka had not even perceived it- but as he finally did, she was peering into his face, a bouquet of sunflowers in her hand.

"_Then why do you seem to be…" _she tilted her head, _"Very good friends?"_

Shizuka blinked, then shrugged. "Dunno."

She let out a small giggle, gently putting her mouth behind her hand as she did so- and the wind rustled, and the lights grew brighter. Shizuka couldn't help being mesmerized.

"_My name is Himawari."_ Then she extended out a hand to him.

He looked at her hand hesitantly. "And Kimihiro?"

"_We'll see him soon." _

He took her hand, then, and all around the rained the countless brightly-colored petals of the sun- until all there was…was darkness.

-

While Shizuka was having his adventures, Kimihiro was having his own, too.

He had looked in every single cupboard in the kitchen and had found it all empty. The water in the faucet wasn't working well either, because all it did was spew out mud and red, irony stuff (which was vaguely familiar; like that time he had gotten a cut, and the red stuff had been there, too), which wasn't very nice to fathom drinking, much less doing so.

But he was getting hungry. The spaghetti the other night had probably long digested, and the terrors he had experience made him thirsty. Worst of all, he needed to wee. But then he didn't like going to the bathroom. It was terrible in there.

The longer he waited, though, the more he wanted to wee. It was the most turbulent of his troubles right now- deeply speaking- because at any time he could wet himself and that would be very, very, VERY uncomfortable.

He tried to find ways to survive and to amuse himself.

He went through all the rooms (except the bathroom) and peeked at all the cabinets and drawers he never could have looked into when his parents were present. He found nothing more than a bunch of papers with numbers on them, and Kimihiro could not possible understand what was so important about them. He found his father's stash of pens and immediately started doodling on the papers set before him, being extra careful with putting wings and stars on the letters in big print, "Phone Bill".

He found his mother's cabinet of ornaments and played with them, although immediately giving up when one of the santa dolls suddenly turned headless. He found the photo albums of his parents when they were young, and as soon as his eyes fell upon the familiar faces of his parents, the wide cerulean orbs swelled with tears.

He left the room in its state of disarray, wiping his eyes with his free arm. He passed by the wall clock his mother had placed beside the refrigerator and did his best to understand- the long hand was pointing at the number four, and the smaller one was at the number two. The thinnest arm was still ticking around the surface of the clock.

Kimihiro could not read time, but he knew what the hands meant. They meant that it was getting late- or too early, he wasn't really sure.

With a bit of effort, he opened the refrigerator door open and found it empty. The only thing within it was coldness, and it was cold enough. He pushed the door closed again and waddled towards the main entrance of his apartment, contemplating whether to leave the safety of his home once more, or to stay and die of hunger, thirst, and bladder problems.

He decided it best to the first alternative instead, because the second sounded rather messy. However, it did not mean he was entirely ready to leave the place once more. He needed weapons, like the kinds he once saw wielded by grown-ups in action movies he wasn't allowed to watch. He wondered if his parents had a sort of secret cabinet where they kept all those cool-looking things that went 'bang', and thought that maybe they didn't. After all, the only weapons he had seen his parents brandish were the broomstick (which was far too tall for him to handle) and the rolling pin (which was too heavy to carry). But then again, those kinds of weapons were used against a singular rat. He doubted it would do him any good, even if he were to wield either of them.

Before he could decide about the weapons at all, the alarm that got off in his head whenever he had to go wee was ringing non-stop. He knew he had to go. If he kept it in any longer, none of his parents would ever be present to help him clean up. He ran full speed towards the bathroom door, only halting to a slow tempo once he got there, hesitant. The bathroom looked normal, and his potty was where it should be. With a sort of sigh, he then prepared to relieve himself, unaware of the lurking presence within the room.

-

Shizuka opened his eyes to see a singular table set before him, with chairs a bit too high for him to get onto with any ease. The room looked nice and sweet, well-decorated and well-ornamented, like being torn from a page of a fairytale book. The place smelled of cinnamons and apples, and for each seat on the table was a cup of tea, warm and ready, including his. At the middle of the tea cups was a plate stacked high with cookies, and a bunch of other tiny jars filled with sugar cubes and milk. As the sensations entered his flow of thought, Shizuka realized just how hungry he was, and quickly helped himself to some cookies.

The girl named Himawari was standing beside him, smiling silently. She made no protest as Shizuka dumped more sugar into his tea, nor did she say anything as he dumped cookies into the small jar of milk (which usually got him a reproving look from his parents). He chewed noisily, tasting each and every _crunch_ the cookie in his mouth went as he ate. There was no other movement in the room.

It was only when he finished that Himawari spoke.

"_So, Shizuka-kun, are you full now?" _

Shizuka gave a heart-felt burp, and said nonchalantly: "Hai."

Something had caught the girl's eye, then, and silenced followed. Shizuka noticed the sudden change of mood- the bright and happy bringing turning to something fearful- and he glanced at Himawari. She was staring at the pocket where he had placed the bag of marbles, his weapons, as if she were going to get killed for even looking at them. Shizuka thought it rather weird for a kid to fear marbles, so he took them out of his pocket and dumped a handful onto his hand before offering them to her. "Would you like to play?" He asked.

Himawari took a step back to avoid any of his fingers touching her skin, and she shook her head no as the flowers in her eyes started to quiver. Shizuka could see the fear clearly now, and understood why.

She wasn't human.

Thinking it best to take over the situation at hand, he decided to probe her with the marbles to get information of Kimihiro's whereabouts. He knew it was practically mean, and risky, but he felt hurried, for some reason. Something was wrong and he could feel it.

"Where's Kimihiro?" He prompted, shaking the marbles in his hand, and they clinked softly as if teasing.

The flower girl gave a small yelp; _"I wouldn't do that if I were you."_ She looked serious about it.

Shizuka frowned. "And I would speak up if I were you."

Quite suddenly, Himawari's hair was growing longer than it should be, twirling and writhing like thousands of snakes upon the marble floor. Shizuka was only lucky to be up on the chair, but the distance wasn't much. The yellow ribbons that decorated the little girl's hair grew wide and big and sharp, like lethal petals of a sunflower. From the girl's overflowing mane sprouted more of such deadly plants- one by one opening up wide, with sun-like heads turning inward and becoming rather hollow. Shizuka could see, from the height he was in, how sharp the rows of tiny teeth decorated the monster flowers' inner mouths.

Even Himawari herself wasn't as sweet and accommodating any more. Her eyes were blindingly multicolored, brimming with hue. Her mouth, agape, was as dangerous as her plant minions' were.

Shizuka then quickly climbed the table, carefully gaining leverage and aim to be able to launch an attack with his marbles. He knew he could not afford to waste even one- but he wasn't sure how many he should limit himself to. The whole room was being entangled by the strands of hair resembling thick roots of plants, blocking out any sign of the serenity the place once had. A handful of marbles in one hand, he used the other to take another cookie from the plate a few inches from him, and chewed on it deliberately. Kimihiro could wait. Right now he needed to survive if he's willing to save anyone special to him. Taking another cookie and this time stuffing it immediately into his mouth, he got ready to flick the first few marbles he had, and prayed that as soon as this was over, there would be a plate of fresh cookie oats instead of chocolate chips waiting for him back home.


	6. Chapter five

**Chapter five.**

_In which the author makes a comeback and two friends are reunited._

Kimihiro wasn't exactly sure how he should react to what was behind him. For one, he hasn't properly done his pants up yet, and whatever it was creeping on him was being terribly rude. He even thought of telling the thing off, but then decided against it, because right now there was something incredibly sinister- and hungry- in the way the thing was staring at his back. Kimihiro knew what hunger looked like; he had seen it far too often in channels such as the Discovery channel and National Geographic, but then again, this could be an all new kind of hungry he was the subject of.

Immediately he zipped up his pants and proceeded to washing his hands, although cautiously, while keeping an eye on the monster behind him. Come to think of it, 'monster' didn't even do it justice. The thing looked shriveled and tattered around the edges, with its face flayed enough to obscure most of its features; Kimihiro could see, however, the tell-tale sign of a dark, gaping mouth, and the dilapidated eyes, like those of a fish his mother would flay before preparing them for dinner (and Kimihiro had always been afraid of the fishes his mother prepared, cooked or not).

The delayed feelings of fear finally caught up with him, and he realized he was trembling again. He did not like the feeling of trembling- it reminded him all too much of those cartoons he used to watch on television, wherein the little mouse would be cornered by a cat, trembling so much in fear that it almost seemed to be jumping. And although such cartoons would usually end with the cat being bested by the mouse, Kimihiro didn't feel quite as lucky. Besides, he didn't even have any kind of something he can use against the monster, save his father's shaving cream now clasped tightly in his hands.

"I'm not scared of you, whatever you are." He said in his bravest of voices. It didn't sound brave at all.

The monster must've thought so too, because at that it laughed a guttural, humorless one (and Kimihiro still had the audacity to actually wonder why it would even bother laughing if it didn't feel like doing so). There was a malignant gleam in the creature's eyes, and Kimihiro recognized it almost immediately- the same way a certain old man would look at him whenever he caught Kimihiro doing something quite naughty.

"_My boy, I've never seen you so frightened in all the days I've seen you." _ It mocked, flexing his fist (all bones, literally, but then there were still the tattered remains of flesh there), as if testing its strength.

"But then you haven't seen me for long, Kaikei-san." Kimihiro shot back, and he turned to fully face the old man. It took him quite a lot of effort not to scream in fear of creature's image.

"_Perhaps,"_ Said the monster, Mr. Kaikei, and he was walking towards little Kimihiro with the odd little gait of his- only now it looked creepier than it should be. _"Say, I bet you're hungry, young boy. Kunogi-chan prepared a batch of cookies in the apartment's public dining room. I'm sure you'd be more than glad to have some snacks with her." _The hunger is plain and obvious in the old man's face now, and although the little boy was so sure he shouldn't accept the offer, Kimihiro really was starving. Besides, it seemed that Himawari was in trouble too. After all, she was a little girl, and people liked getting little girls in trouble (or rather, much accurately, little girls were damsel in distresses that had to be saved and would not die even if she should, which was a theory he developed after watching a bunch of Disney movies).

However, he knew he still had to be wary of the old man, because dead or alive he was just as scary as he was in everyday life. Keeping the shaving cream in his left hand, he said, "I am hungry, and that would sound really nice." As innocently as he could, and it was convincing enough.

Kaikei nodded, looking as if he were about to drool any minute now, and gestured at Kimihiro to walk out of the room. The little boy did almost hurriedly, wanting to get away from the old man as quickly as possible, and also because he felt a tad excited at the cookies bit, despite his situation. He really was hungry, after all.

Meanwhile, Shizuka was not having quite the easy time.

It took him more than his usual speed to outrun the many roots of his adversary that were lashing at him left and right, and he was very tired. He dodged another by jumping off the table and running full speed across the room, which looked like it was stretching him even farther away from his target. He had a scrape on his knee already from being knocked down once; he was determined not to let that happen again.

It's fortunate to say that his attacker was no older than he was, therefore their limits were quite the same. Himawari was going at him without thinking of any kind of strategy- in fact, it was more likely that she was trying to make him run away, out of fear of the marbles.

That's when it hits Shizuka: the marbles! Himawari had changed dramatically when he showed her the marbles. The young temple boy was not sure why exactly the little girl feared them, but he was not really in the mood- or the situation- to try to understand. What was obvious was this: this Himawari-chan is not the real Himawari-chan, and she is a monster.

He decided to try his theory out and flicked a marble at the girl as he passed by, and to his triumph the child cried, and almost half of her dangerous roots rotted into nothing. He stopped at a halt and saw the scorch mark where the marble had hit the girl just below her eye- and Shizuka thanked the gods for giving him remarkable marble-flicking skills.

Himawari returned to her human-like form, crying in pain. The sunflowers in her eyes shivered and trembled and drooped, as if in heavy rain.

Shizuka felt bad for hurting her, but she would've eaten him if she could, so he stopped himself from feeling guilty.

Instead, he approached her, marbles still in hand, and asked the only thing that's been in his head since he got here: "Where is Kimihiro?"

Himawari shot him a look, but there wasn't much anger in them, or defiance. Just fear. "_I-_" she started, lip trembling, and then; "_I don't know._"

At this moment there came a particularly loud buzzing in the air, and a door opened. Shizuka turned just in time to see his friend Kimihiro walk in sheepishly with a decaying monster at his back.

The blue-eyed child cried out in joy when he saw Shizuka, and quickly left Mr. Kaikei to run into the safety of his friend's companionship. Shizuka wasn't really sure what to expect, because really they've only been friends for a day or two, and awkwardly he opened his arms a bit as if in mid-action of either an open embrace or a casual wave.

But Kimihiro wasn't planning anything like that, and all he did when he came to Shizuka's side was punch the boy in the shoulder. Shizuka was about to snap at him or something because that wasn't what a person should do just after seeing a friend who came all the way to find him, but he stopped at the sight of Kimihiro's tears. His friend was crying. Shizuka did not like that.

"I-I was really really really scared, you know," sniffled Kimihiro, looking at him with the face of a boy of three years and three months and one week and one day and three hours and twenty-five minutes and five seconds. The tears were fat globules of water slipping down the child's chubby cheeks, and his nose was all runny and red from the effort of crying. His wide cerulean eyes were tinged with red now and the tears only made them look weirder. "An' I thought nobody was comin' to get me an' I haven't seen my parents an' I was really scared an' all." The boy hiccupped.

A crease formed between Shizuka's eyebrows and he put both hands on his friend's shoulders. "Stop crying, now." He said softly. "We're gonna get outta this, m'kay?"

The younger boy sniffled one last time and made an effort to dry his eyes with his little fingers. He wasn't saying anything, but Shizuka noticed that he was nodding. With a smile, the temple boy rummaged through his pocket and produced a brown handkerchief, which he promptly handed to his friend. Kimihiro wiped the last of his tears away.

"_You little buggers. Do you really think you can get away that easily?_"

Shizuka turned towards the sound of the voice and his eyes met with the old man's gaping ones. "Yes we can." He said resolutely, one hand holding his friend's tightly, the other already armed with another marble piece directed at Mr. Kaikei. "You're not gonna stop us."

Himawari was standing beside her hellish grandfather, trembling again at the sight of the marble. Even the old man looked temporarily scared- but he was able to force himself to smile. "_You're brave, aren't you, my boy?_" he asked with a showcase of an equally gaping mouth, as to which Shizuka replied, "I try to be."

Still holding each other's hands, the two backed away slowly from the creatures, and only turned around once they knew the door out was within reach. Neither Mr. Kaikei nor Himawari did anything to stop them, and had only watched even when the door was shut close.

Shizuka released his friend and counted the marbles he had dug once more from his pocket. Fifteen marbles left.

Kimihiro was looking at the marbles, too. "I have a bunch of those." He said with a sort of giddiness. "Maybe we can play a bit in my room till, ya know, someone comes an' picks us up."

The temple boy only looked at him. "Nobody's gonna pick us up. We're gonna have to do this ourselves." And he pointed at the marbles in his hand. "And these aren't toys. They're special marbles."

"Looks like toys ta me."

"You're blind."

"Nah," said Kimihiro, crossing his arms and turning away with a small pout. "Pretty sure them are toys."

Shizuka wanted to point out that the sentence Kimihiro made was entirely wrong, and that these were special marbles indeed, but he stopped when he caught sight of something outside the hallway window. He walked towards it and saw the forest just across the street (although he was sure it wasn't supposed to be there in the first place), and an idea came to his mind.

"We hafta go back to Geronimo." He said.

Kimihiro followed his gaze outside the window, and frowned a bit. "I dun wanna go back through the forest. It's scarier there."

The temple boy thought about what to say to that, and he came up with, "Geronimo'll prolly still have those chocolates", which roused just the right emotion from his friend.

"Then what are we waitin' for, Shizuka?" exclaimed Kimihiro spritely, mood changed. "We gotta have 'em chocolates!"


End file.
